


adventure

by hezenvengeance



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: found fallen family baby!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 21:06:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19384666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hezenvengeance/pseuds/hezenvengeance
Summary: the origin, awakening, and life of Marcus Jameson, Warlock.





	adventure

**Author's Note:**

> "Together we wait for space,  
> Together we wait for silence.  
> And under your breath,  
> You spoke of innocence."

* * *

 

Marcus is eight years old when he meets Aviskras for the first time. The homestead sits on the edge of a vast forest that can lose little boys in its depths far too fast, and small running feet catch easily in the gnarled roots of age old trees. He whimpers and cries and clutches at his knee, skinned badly enough to bleed, whipping his head this way and that and hoping his sister and brothers will realise he’s not playing hide and seek anymore. 

 

The bushes rustle before him suddenly; Marcus freezes, a sob caught in his throat, well enough aware that the forest is dangerous but too young to fully understand why. What’s there? A wild animal? His sister, trying to scare him? Something _else_? 

 

The brush parts, and four bright eyes zero in on him. Marcus blinks back, forgetting his injury for the moment to watch the creature with four gangly arms with three pointed fingers each step tentatively out of the undergrowth towards him. It settles into a crouch about four foot from him, chittering softly, inquisitive but cautious - they’re about the same size this way, and Marcus has always been curious before fearful. He leans forward, too absorbed in this new find to notice the weight he shifts to his wounded leg, and he cries out when it gives underneath him and he crumples into a dirty heap on the forest floor. The creature leaps back, hissing, till Marcus starts to cry again, whimpers and whines half-muffled in his fists. His eyes are scrunched closed in pain, but they shoot open when Marcus feels the brush of an alien sensation across his skin. He looks, and the creature is loomed over him, a hand on his injured leg. It taps his wound experimentally and when Marcus yelps in response it chitters again, louder and a measure more assertive. Marcus blinks back his tears to watch it tear at the cloth it has wrapped around its middle industriously, and he only winces a little when it goes to bandage up his knee, tying a clumsy knot into the worn fabric and settling back on its haunches. It looked almost... pleased with itself. 

 

Marcus, finally getting his bearings enough to move again, sits up and, remembering his mother’s lessons about good manners, bobs his head and offers a wobbly ‘thank you’ in the creatures direction. It clicks back at him, high and bright, and the sound makes Marcus smile despite the pain and the oddness of the situation. He sticks his hand out. Mama always said a good handshake is important for introductions.

 

“My name’s Marcus. What’s your name?”

 

It stops. Cocks its head back and forth. Wiggles it’s mandibles, hissing and chittering till the clicks become noise and the noise becomes syllables and the syllables become a word. 

 

“Ah-vees-crass,” it sounds out, slowly and with great difficulty. Marcus works the sounds around his head, brow furrowed in concentration. 

 

“Avisrass?”

 

It shakes its head. “Ah-vees-crass. Aviskras.”

 

Marcus repeats it clumsily, and they back and forth till his pronunciation becomes passable and the creature chitters happily and grasps his offered hand in all four of its claws; Marcus shakes vigorously and goes to withdraw but it doesn’t seem to want to let go. That’s okay with him, though. He pats their joined hands with his free one, and Aviskras seems to take it as a signal to sit down, still holding Marcus’s chubby fingers between his own. 

 

They sit in silence; the forest moves around them, the slow rustle of leaves and distant birdsong the only accompaniment to their chance meeting. Marcus studies his new friend - they are friends now, after all, they shook hands and everything - and Aviskras watches him just as intently. 

 

“What are you?” Marcus asks innocently. Aviskras seems to blanche, and lets go of his hands to gesture to themselves with all four arms. Again, they struggle to speak, chewing over the words before they air them, Marcus waiting patiently all the while. It reminds him of Isaac, one of his little brothers - he rarely talks, and takes a while to say anything if he does - so Marcus is used to waiting. 

 

“El-icks-nee. Great Machine, follow.”

 

“El-icks-neeeee,” Marcus repeats, and it must satisfy his friend as Aviskras nods their head in return. 

 

“What’s the ‘Great Machine?’” 

 

Aviskras steps forward and scoops him up with one set of arms, and waits until Marcus recovers from the initial shock and wraps his arms around their neck before they leap into the nearest tree, grip firm around him as their second set of arms starts to scale, up and up till they break the canopy together. Marcus gawks; he’s never been this high, never seen the endless stretch of leaves and branches that form the roof of the forest he knows so well. Aviskras taps his shoulder to get his attention, and then points into the sky. At the tip of their finger the Traveler hangs, a distant speck on the horizon, floating serenely among the clouds. 

 

“That? You mean the Traveler?” Aviskras nods vigorously. “Then you should ask the Guardians. Mama says they know all sorts about the Traveler, that they’re connected to it. That’s why they have powers and are really strong and tough and stuff.” 

 

Aviskras shimmies in the branches, their large hand faltering, shakes and bows their head. Marcus frowns.

 

“No? Why?”

 

Aviskras is clearly struggling with this, rolling their shoulders and working their mandibles in obvious frustration. 

 

“Not friend,” they force out, after much thought. Marcus nods in understanding, though he doesn’t really get it. The guardians are supposed to protect them, aren’t they? They should protect everyone, including the el-icks-nee. It doesn’t seem like Aviskras likes to talk about them regardless, and Marcus doesn’t like to make his friends uncomfortable, so he stops asking. Instead, he wraps his little arms tighter around Aviskras’ neck. 

 

“That’s okay. You don’t have to be friends with everyone. Warner isn’t my friend, even though we live next to each other. He’s mean to Isaac because of the way he speaks, even though it’s not Isaac’s fault,” Marcus says matter-of-factly, “Isaac is my little brother. Sometimes he can’t speak, or he can’t use the right words, like you.” 

 

Aviskras makes a noise that sounds like affirmation, moving Marcus till they can observe him with all four eyes, claws under his arms like the way he holds the mouser cat. Aviskras crosses a free hand over their chest, inclining their big head to Marcus, then tapping his chest. Marcus repeats the gesture, and Aviskras nods again, more vigorous this time. “Friend,” they say quietly, and Marcus beams back, injury forgotten.

 

“Friends!”

 

They spend the rest of the afternoon together, Marcus asking question after question and Aviskras struggling to put together answers in English, meandering through the trees all the while. The sun is starting to set by the time Marcus remembers what he was doing before, and panic hits him like a brick to the head. He flails in Aviskras’ arms, who in turn makes an extremely worried sound and fumbles to catch him before he can fall to the forest floor. “Stop,” Aviskras barks, forceful in a way that reminds Marcus of his father, and he immediately ceases struggling. Aviskras waits a minute, let’s Marcus get his breath back before saying, softer, “Speak.” 

 

“I was playing hide and seek with Diana and Isaac and Thomas, they couldn’t find me! And it’s nearly night time, Mama said I can’t stay out after dark! I’m sorry, but I have to go home now, so please put me down,” Marcus babbles, tears starting to well up in the corners of his eyes. Aviskras makes a soothing noise in the back of their throat, and ascends the tree with much more care than previously, holding tight to Marcus all the while. Perhaps they are afraid they’ll drop him again. Marcus doesn’t fight, but does wonder where on earth Aviskras is taking him. He said home! The way home is on the ground!

 

They break the canopy once again; the sky is bleeding dark red, the sun just disappearing beneath the horizon and the inky black of night is starting to creep in at the corners. Marcus is, once again, dumbstruck. The sky looks very different up here, and the stars seem so much closer, blinking silently away. He reaches his hand out, tears dry, worry momentarily forgotten, and they hang at the end of his fingertips, seemingly just out of reach. The few clouds that hang above are burnished orange on their fluffy undersides, the leaves below dyed red and brown by the dying rays of the sun. The world goes silent, just for that moment.

 

Aviskras is slow to break Marcus from his awe. They comb a claw through his unruly curls, and Marcus blinks owlishly as he turns to them, as if waking up from a deep sleep. He rubs his eyes; suddenly Marcus feels so tired. Aviskras purrs under him, and that only serves to further lull him towards sleep. The breeze on his cheeks is soothing, and Aviskras is very warm; Marcus buries his face into the scarf wrapped around the Eliksni’s neck and burrows deeper into their grip, trying to keep his eyes open as the red sky darkens into deep indigo. 

 

* * *

 

 

Marcus wakes to shouting, screaming voices. He wonders if Thomas has been bad again for a moment, making to roll over to go back to sleep, but finding he can’t. His nose presses against rough chitin, and as Marcus slowly comes round he remembers where he had been. Who he had been with. 

 

The loud voices are suddenly very familiar; he picks out his mother, and she is howling, screaming, an unbridled rage he’s never heard before but puts the fear of whatever gods into his heart as soon as he truly hears it. Marcus bolts up in Aviskras’ arms, who has been making a terrible noise deep in their throat, a low, scratchy roar that seems to vibrate through their whole body and into Marcus. He looks desperately between them and his mother, now joined by his father and siblings, and pats Aviskras’ chest to get their attention. Aviskras peers down at him for a second or so, their attention switching quickly back to Marcus’ family when the familiar, rhythmic click-click-click of a shotgun being loaded echoes into the space between them. 

 

“Stop,” Marcus whimpers, eyes going back and forth between them rapidly, helplessly, “Stop! You have to stop!”

 

“Marcus?! Marcus! You’re awake! Oh, my boy, my sweet boy. You must come over here, that- that _thing_ is dangerous!” His father yells, holding out his arms as if Marcus is going to leap into them. His mother holds the loaded shotgun up, aimed at Aviskras. Marcus’ stomach drops, and he doesn’t even think before he throws his arms around Aviskras’ neck once more, trying to shield them with his little body. His voice comes out a desperate scream now. 

 

“Don’t shoot! Aviskras is my friend! Promise you won’t shoot and I’ll come home, but you can’t hurt them!”

 

His mother’s finger closes over the trigger and the growl thrumming through Aviskras’ chest intensifies, and Marcus presses his face into their shoulder, tears soaking into the raggedy scarf. 

 

“You can’t hurt them! I won’t let you!” His voice is a muffled scream against Aviskras, sobbing freely, and the Eliksni cards a claw through his hair, doing their best to soothe him. He can hear the shouts of his family over his cries and the frantic beat of his heart, the roar of his mother and the sharp yells of his siblings. Diana is loudest, arguing something, shrill and demanding, and he lifts his head up and turns just in time to see her reach for the shotgun, wrestle with it in their mother’s grip, the shout of his father, a single, _deafening_ shot- 

 

The world tilts, falls, faster than Marcus can comprehend, and suddenly Aviskras is over him, cocooning him within four long arms, the rough ridges of their body shielding him, and for a single, world shattering moment Marcus does not know if his friend is alive or dead. The clearing is silent. Marcus whimpers.

 

All of a sudden, Aviskras’ breathing kicks back in, the low and rough burr in their chest, and four bright eyes lift to blink slowly at him. Aviskras uncurls a hand from around Marcus to place their claws to his chest, and the raspy gravel of their voice is an overwhelming comfort when they simply say: “Okay?”

 

Marcus, stunned into silence, takes a minute to answer, and Aviskras makes a soft and worried sound in their throat till Marcus unties his tongue and speaks. 

 

“Okay. I’m okay.”


End file.
